


Technical Difficulties

by The Little MerBucky (blue_pointer)



Series: A Different Start [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 4 train, Alternate Ending, Avengers are like small children, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Comedy, Confused Steve Rogers, Depressed Bucky Barnes, HYDRA sucks, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Podfic Welcome, Quinjet, Sad times, Sharon Carter mentioned - Freeform, Siberia, Stark Spangled Soldier - Freeform, Stark Spangled Winter - Freeform, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve comes home, Steve needs relationship advice, Stony - Freeform, Stucky - Freeform, T'Challa rules, Wakanda, honestly a VHS are you kidding me, mean girl Tony Stark, obsolete technology is obsolete, relationships are hard, starting friendships, stonucky - Freeform, stuckony - Freeform, supervillain plot full of holes, surprise funeral, when you love people, winterironshield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9485075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/The%20Little%20MerBucky
Summary: Picture it, if you will:A man by the name of Zemo, born in the 80s. He knows nothing of VHS and how media and obsolete technology ages. But he assumes that he can lure his enemies into a dilapidated Hydra facility in the middle of Siberia and trick them into killing one another by showing them a piece of crucial information.Little does he know, he's about to enter...the Alternate Ending Zone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, finally, the story that started it all: how we got the Kick Drum Heart universe.  
> Enjoy, everyone!

“I lost _everyone_. ...And so will you.”

Zemo turns to press play on the VCR in the control room, then turns back to Captain America to deliver the final coup de grâce, the line he’s practiced for two years now. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever.”

Outside, the captain glances at the nearest monitor, then back at Zemo. Wait. Why is there nothing on the screen? Zemo leans forward, squinting. No, it’s just tracking lines. Why? What’s going on?

At his elbow, the VCR makes a terrible whining, grinding noise, and suddenly the wheels of the cassette are spinning far too quickly. “No!” He presses stop. The machine continues to grind, and now there’s a buzzing, too, that’s shaking the whole machine. He presses eject. More whirring. “No!” This is his big moment. He’s planned everything so carefully, down to the second. All of his work for the last 20 months, only to be upstaged by a bloody VCR?!

“Ummm…” Stark saunters over to the window.

 

*

 

“Need some help in there?” The wince is in Tony’s voice, because the helmet’s still on, covering his face. “Oo--yeah. There’s a reason they stopped making those things.”

“What is it?” Steve wants to know. Right. He’d slept through that borky part of technological history.

“They’re called Video Cassette Recorders, but if you ask me VCR should stand for Very Crappy Rejects.” He turns to face Steve and explain, with the usual Tony hand-gesturing. “See, if you didn’t use the machines regularly, the plastic bands on the--” But he can see from the look of impatient annoyance on Steve’s face that he’s going into too much detail for him. “Okay, right. ‘Don’t be so technical, Tony.’ Basically, the parts that make it go will crumble without regular use. Or, you know, just plain old time passing.” He turns to look at Zemo. “How long’s it been since that tech has been relevant for middle income consumers, would you say? Thirty years?”

But Zemo’s not listening. He’s prying the machine open and ripping out the cassette, which is leaving a shiny-sad trail of naked tape behind, wound into the machine, twisted and ripped as it comes out of the spools. “Noooooooooo!”

“Yeah, see. You should never force it,” Tony’s advising him. “They were always really temperamental.” He turns back to Steve. “But the truth is, he’s fighting a losing battle. That tape itself is only viable within a narrow temperature range.” He glances over his shoulder at the Spring Runway Model or whatever the guy’s called. “What do you figure, Pinocchio, about minus 40 in here on average? I’m guessing they didn’t turn the heat on for you and your friends, considering you were already popsicles.” He waves a hand at the life pods--now death pods--surrounding them.

The fuzzy creature holding the assault rifle just looks at him, forehead crinkled in a frown. Does the guy ever speak? Tony wonders. “Okay, yeah. So we’re gonna go with well below zero F, and that magnetic tape is only good down to maybe 32 at the most. Figure in...how many years it’s been down here? Thirty? Okay, we’ll give the Soviets credit for being a bit technologically behind toward the end of the cold war, so twenty? Twenty years of below freezing temperatures on temperamental equipment like that?” Tony whistles, shaking his head. “You’re fighting a losing battle there, friend,” he tells Zemo.

 

*

 

Steve is just looking at Bucky with an apologetic expression. _Sorry, he tends to talk a lot._

But Bucky can no longer do the whole secret best friend language communicated only with your eyes thing like they used to. He just has to relearn it, Steve tells himself. It’ll take time, that’s all. Right now, Bucky’s just looking at him...just looking at him. Something’s wrong. Mostly he’s focused on the bad guy, with the gun aimed and ready. But there’s something strange in his body posture, hunched over, like a scared animal. Behind him, Steve can see a crazy machine sunk partly into the floor. It’s got a seat in the middle, and at first it reminds Steve of the time machine from H.G. Wells, but then it hits him: this is a bigger version of the machine they’d found in that bank vault after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. _Oh god._ Nat’s report had called it an Electro Shock Reprogramming machine, which sounded way less sinister than what it actually was and did.

He looks back at Bucky. No wonder he’s slinking around it like a beaten dog. This is the place they used to hurt him. Steve balls his hands into fists, forces himself to focus back on Zemo, and Tony’s way-too-long explanation about how VCRs work. Tony droning on and on like that to a villain can only mean one thing: he’s stalling for time. Creating a diversion.

 

*

 

It doesn’t take T’Challa long to make his way around to the back of the control room where the villain is hiding, distracted by the team of would-be heroes in the central chamber. Now that he knows the truth...this man killed his father...there is no stopping him. There’s a keypad-locked door on this side, but T’Challa has Wakandan-designed technology no larger than a fingernail that can bypass the outdated security. Child’s play. The trick is stealth. How does one command a 50-year-old door that’s been rusting in subzero temperatures to open silently? It’s a risk. He takes it.

The small pasty-skinned man is still struggling with the obsolete technology, surrounded by a broken ribbon of videotape, trying in vain to rewind it back into the cracked cassette, whining and sobbing at the delay to his big finale.

Tony Stark is still talking to him, this terrorist, this casual killer of kings, his nasal voice droning on and on and on. His genius is evident. T’Challa silently thanks him--but not before he thanks the gods--as he raises his fist to strike one precisely-calculated blow.

 

*

 

Bucky nearly starts when he sees the masked figure of his nightmares enter the tiny room behind Zemo. Nearly, because decades of training are carved into his bones. He will not give away a perfect ambush. Emotional reaction is for humans--something he is not.

But Steve is. He remembers...Steve does not have a poker face. So Bucky does something unexpected. He grabs Steve’s hand.

The man from the museum turns, startled, and it’s just enough time for the Wakandan king to knock Zemo out cold with a single blow of one powerful, armored fist.

But Steve...Steve misses the whole thing. Because Bucky is holding his hand. He’s looking at him like...like… _You pulled me from the river. Why?_ There’s an expectation behind that look. It’s demanding. That look says, _You love me, and you know it. Admit it!_

Self-conscious, afraid, Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand. Quickly. But not before Iron Man sees.

 

*

 

Tony goes temporarily blind with rage. Here he is, swooping in to save the day, putting himself out there, like always, figuring out how to defeat the bad guy, all in a day’s work...and these two yahoos are standing behind him playing first date. _His_ Steve. And this...fuzzy _thing_ that looks like something you’d pay a plumber to pull out of your clogged shower drain. He turns away with a snarl of disgust. Maybe the king needs his help. Maybe he should just fucking leave before they share a malted with two straws.

Tony stalks over to the window. “You got it?”

“Yes,” the king replies in his crisply accented English. “I believe I will take things from here.”

“So what’s the plan?” Tony asks, because this is gonna be one hell of a denouement. This little pipsqueak’s got the whole international community in an uproar. False charges have been brought against good people on all sides. And...oh yeah. That Barnes guy, too. _Big ugly troll._  

“This man will be my guest in Wakanda, until such time as the United Nation’s Joint Counter Terrorism Task Force chooses to extradite him. As for you…” T’Challa draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and Tony’s gotta admit, he cuts quite a dashing figure. The king nods his chin toward Steve and his little...friend standing behind Tony.

“I will make certain the Winter Soldier receives a full pardon on the matter of the U.N. bombing. The world will know of his innocence.”

Tony shrugs. Big deal. “He’s still the world’s most wanted criminal, linked to at least 30 acts of terror over the last 50 years.” What’s one pardon really going to do? The guy’s toast. _Stop holding his hand, Steven_ , Tony hisses internally. _He’ll be on the Raft in a straitjacket before you can say ‘Jim-dandy.’_

“Tony!” That’s Cap’s disapproving voice. His ‘mind your manners, Tony’ voice. His ‘you might be hurting my stupid boyfriend’s feelings simply by telling the truth’ voice.

“He’s right,” the Barnes-creature replies, surprising Tony. “There’s nowhere for me, Steve.”

 _Steve._ Tony’s bristling. Such familiarity. How dare he? _How dare he?_

“Probably best if I climb back into their shock box. Make things easier on everyone.”

“Make--” Cap is choking on his own outrage. _Great._ He’s bound and determined to save his childhood pet. “Make things--?--Buck, you are **not** goin’ back in that box. _You_ didn’t do anything wrong.”

Tony and about 7 billion people worldwide would beg to differ. So does Fido, apparently, because he’s shaking his head no. “I did it, Steve. All those things. That was me.”

“But you weren’t in control--!” Cap’s ears are red. That means he wants to fight someone.

 

*

 

“Barnes.” The king’s commanding voice cuts through their argument. He’d left the control room with his prize and made his way back into the central chamber while the would-be heroes had been squabbling like children. If this is all that stands between this world and chaos, he sees himself being forced to leave Wakanda much more often.

Barnes’ eyes shift to him. T’Challa knows the power of names, but this man, he’s been brought to heel so often, he responds naturally to power, like a well-bred hound. “You are innocent,” he tells him, putting the right amount of weight behind each word. “And you are welcome in my kingdom for as long as you like. No harm will come to you there, either by man, nation, or council. While you are there, you are under _my_ protection. This I vow.” He extends his free hand to Barnes, a true gesture of peace from majestic feline to domesticated canine. Barnes just looks at it, as though he’s never been sworn an oath before.

The captain steps in, grasping his wrist firmly on behalf of his old friend. It is an acceptable substitute. T’Challa nods. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He nods at Zemo’s unconscious body. “For everything.”

“You and I are both men who know something of duty,” he tells the captain, then glances back at Barnes, whom the captain has blocked protectively on instinct. “And personal loyalty.” He steps back. “Pardon me while I take out this trash.” He raises the limp body of Zemo by the hood on his jacket. “I will meet you in my homeland shortly.” The captain nods, and he makes his exit, dragging his prey behind him.

 

*

 

“Homeland? Wait.” Tony didn’t okay this. “Why would you go to Wakanda? I mean--you’re coming home. To the complex. Or the Tower--whichever. But this is over, that means you come home. Right?” What Tony had been aiming for from the beginning.

Steve turns to look at him, and Tony drops the mask, because he wants Steve to see how hurt he is by his failure to jump at the opportunity to come back into the fold. And their bed.

“Tony….” He glances back at Fido. “Buck’s not the only one who’s a wanted criminal on world watch lists right now. I can’t just go strollin’ back to New York like nothin’ happened.”

“Why not?” Tony argues. “We could sneak you in past the paparazzi, and then it’s up to the lawyers. You’ll be off in a few weeks, max.”

“ _We’ll_ be off?” Cap asks, incredulous. How it makes Tony seethe to hear Steve insist on a ‘we’ that does not include him.

“Barnes is on his own.” Tony shrugs. “You heard what the king said, he’s got it covered.”

“He’s **not** on his own,” Steve insists. “Not as long as there’s breath left in my body.”  

Tony’s about to tell him that having no breath in his body is something that can be arranged, when he watches Fido just move off, like he isn’t at the center of the biggest marital squabble in the history of beautiful couples who should never be torn apart by fuzzy trolls. Cap sees it, too.

“Buck, where you goin’?” He follows Barnes’ movements like he’s the most important person on earth, and it makes Tony want to blast both of them to kingdom come with his repulsor beams. Then he gets backup from the most unexpected place.

“Steve, just go home,” Barnes tells him, wandering off toward one of the life pods-turned-coffin.

“Buck…” Cap looks hurt. _Good_ , Tony thinks. And then, _you asshole_. Looking that hurt over some guy he hasn’t seen in 70 years.  

Barnes stops and turns back. “You said whatever happened with your friends, you’d deal with it.” Steve presses those full lips into a thin line, irritated at having his own words thrown back in his face. _Good one, Fido._ Wait, when did Tony start cheering him on?

 

*

 

“So deal with it,” Bucky tells Steve. “Go home. Say you’re sorry. Put things back together. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

But he can tell from the look on Steve’s face that the stubborn punk isn’t going to take no for an answer. “It _does_ matter, Buck. It will _always_ matter.” He glances nervously in Tony’s direction before continuing. “ _You_ matter.”

Bucky just shakes his head, turning back to the pod. “Look, there’s something I gotta do. You guys go. Talk it out. Whatever. Just.” He looks up at Steve, and it’s hard to look into those soft blue eyes for more than half a second, but he forces himself to. “Make it right.” He nods encouragingly.

 

*

 

Of course Tony steps in then. “Welp. That’s it, then. You heard him, Cap. Let’s go home, make it right.”

“Tony.” Steve’s starting to get angry. He needs to lay off. Can’t he tell how serious this is? His best friend--a man who was _at the very least_ his best friend--has returned from the dead, been blamed for terrorist acts, hunted and caged like an animal, and then lured to the site of his decades of torture to complete the master plan of some lunatic, only to finally be set free. And he’s supposed to just walk away? Hell no. Hell _fucking_ no.

“I don’t understand what the problem is.” Tony’s cocked a hip, is resting one gauntlet on it. It’s his ‘let’s have a fight that ends in hate sex’ posture. But Steve isn’t in the mood. Hasn’t been for over a year now.

What a mess. Steve takes a deep breath and peels his helmet off, running fingers through his hair. “Okay, not fair,” Tony tells him. “You can’t do the whole ‘beautiful golden boy with halo of downy-soft hair’ thing to me when I’m trying to win an argument with you. That’s fighting dirty.”

Steve grins in spite of himself. Tony always says the sweetest things. He knows how to disarm him. But this is serious. “Tony…” Oh god, where to start? ‘This relationship has been over for a long time?’ That‘s not really fair, because he’d never given Tony official notice that things were off. Partly because Steve hoped he wouldn’t have to--Pepper had been in the picture, and Pepper was good for Tony. She could give him the life, the family Tony had always wanted. You couldn’t have a white picket fence and 2.5 kids without a wife. And Pepper took care of him, kept him on track in a way Steve had never had the patience for. He was too busy trying to hold _himself_ together hour by hour. So he’d taken the coward’s way out, backed out the door assuming that things would be happily ever after for Tony and Pepper. Steve had no idea things had gone sour between them. He’d felt like shit when Tony had told him they were on a break. That was modern slang for ‘gave me back my ring’, right? Bad news.

So Steve isn’t off the hook after all. Not only that, but from the way Tony has been acting through this whole debacle, he can tell Tony thinks they’re still together. Which just shows Steve how royally he’s fucked up. He isn’t good at relationships. He really hasn’t HAD any to learn what to do. Bucky and he had always just been together, and Peggy--just the thought of Peggy makes him crumble from the inside. He misses her so much. Peggy had always just told Steve what to do. She’d understood how inept he was at relationships, that he needed guidance. She’d known him back in the day, before people had _wanted_ relationships with him.

Steve hadn’t known what he was supposed to do when Bucky had turned up in D.C. like the most miraculous straight-from-the-Blessed-Virgin bad penny in the world. All he’d known was, if Bucky was alive, that meant being with Tony (and Sam--and if he’d ever actually succeeded in asking Sharon out, her, too) was cheating on the one person in the world who meant the most to him. And he couldn’t do it. He’d dropped all thoughts of everyone else like cold turkey. Only...Tony didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Spending less and less time at the Tower, avoiding alone time, trying to keep it strictly business--Tony hadn’t gotten any of his subtle hints that things were over. What was the protocol for a situation like that? Steve had no clue.

He could have asked Sam, but that would have meant admitting that he’d had a weird somewhat-open relationship with his co-team leader going on for a couple of years, part of which time he’d been actively dating Sam. And that made Steve feel ashamed, because even if Tony was with Pepper, planning their wedding, wasn’t it cheating if Steve was asking people on dates in D.C. without Tony’s specific permission? And what about Sam? He’d never told him about Tony. At least--not about that part. Sam was smart; he’d figured it out once he’d met the guy, but by then Steve and Sam had agreed that romance between them was a bad idea, not just because of the whole therapist-patient thing, but because Sam had admitted to Steve that he reminded him way too much of Riley for their romantic relationship to be a healthy one.

So nothing had ever been said explicitly, or ended definitely, or drawn to a close honorably, and here’s Tony, looking at him like his estranged wife who expects him to come home and help her raise the kids while Bucky wanders off like he’s just going to disappear out of Steve’s life like he’d done in 1944, only less dramatically this time. 

“Buck,” he calls after him. Steve can’t let him go. Not for either of their sakes. Bucky needs him, and god, does he ever need Bucky.

 

*

 

It hurts Tony more than words can express that he’s here with Cap, trying to talk, trying to work things out, but all Steve wants to do is chase after his little lost dog. “I was talking to you,” he says softly, uncharacteristically so.

“Sorry, Tony.” Steve actually looks back for a second before chasing after Fido. “I’ll be right back. Buck, what’re you doin’ back there?”

Tony can hear the gravelly reply, Fido’s voice soft like he’s not used to using it. “Steve, I’m fine. Go--” And then a harsh metal clang, like someone throwing a 7/8 wrench across the room to impact against the side of a classic car. Which is not a noise Tony knows at all.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Now he’s curious. Tony walks around the pod to find Cap, staring helplessly at his friend while Fido tries to punch his way through the control panel. “Whoa there, wait. That’s not how you coax ancient technology into being your friend. Step back. Hands off. The maestro is here.” He steps between Steve’s fuzzy friend and the panel, making a shooing gesture before Fido can do any more damage. “Now what exactly is it you’re trying to get it to do?”

“Open!” Fido says harshly, chest heaving. Whatever his deal is, he seems pretty worked up about it.

“Buck.” Steve is using his gentle voice. Tony’s missed that voice. He can’t remember when the last time was he heard it.

 

*

 

“He’s gone, pal,” Steve tells Bucky, an ocean of sympathy for his friend who they both know had been only a step away from ending up just like this. “There’s nothin’ you can do now.” And Steve wonders, were these soldiers Bucky’s friends? His companions in this hellish frozen prison at the end of the world? Has he lost loved ones today? He doesn’t know, but Steve is determined to be here for Bucky, no matter what he needs.   

“I’m gonna bury them,” Bucky tells him, looking like he’s about to cry. “I know they’re dead, Stevie, but they don’t deserve this. They’re not animals. They never chose this. They don’t deserve to be left like...this. Dead in their cages.” Steve lays a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but inside, he’s reeling. Bucky called him ‘Stevie.’ His Bucky. On his own. His Bucky’s still in there somewhere.

Beside them, Tony’s being suspiciously quiet. No witty comeback, no subtle joke at their expense. Steve’s not sure what to make of it. And then he speaks. “Well, let’s get them out of there then, huh? Should be simple enough.” Tony examines the panel, takes some tools out of a hidden compartment in his arm, and gets to work. Two minutes later, there’s a hiss of hydraulics, and the lid of the capsule rises, releasing the smell of stale air, sweat, and blood. Tony doesn’t wait to see what happens next, he just moves on to the next pod to do the same.

Steve stays behind, watching Bucky, ready to catch him should he fall, physically, emotionally, or psychologically. “You don’t have to help,” Bucky tells him, truculently.

Steve pats his shoulder. “I’ll go see if I can find some shovels or somethin’.”

 

*

 

Bucky takes Josef first, not because he’s the first opponent Bucky ever faced who was stronger than he was, could have broken the arm--not out of some sense of respect. If he were going to do this right, it would be ladies first, and he would go get Yevgeniya. But the truth is, Josef is closest, and Bucky’s heart is heavy enough without trudging extra steps.

 _“Мне жаль,”_ he apologizes as he lifts Josef’s lifeless body out of the chair, balancing him over one shoulder. When Bucky turns to climb down, Stark is there watching him.

“You knew these guys, I guess,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m not good with death. I can tell from that look on your face you’re thinking, ‘jeez, Stark, just stop talking,’ but I find the constant stream of words sort of keeps the panic from building to a place where I can’t breathe because wow, I just realized how much this big rocket silo is like a tomb and it’s seriously freaking me out.” Finally, he takes a breath.

“Just go outside,” Bucky advises him. “You don’t have to stay. I can handle it from here.” He carries Josef toward the freight elevator. Annoyingly, Stark trails after him, still babbling.

“Just so you know, Tony Stark isn’t the sort of guy who just abandons a man surrounded by the corpses of his friends. I mean, I’m sure you’ve never had the opportunity to observe if I’m that kind of guy or not, because, seriously, how often do you find yourself in this situation in life? But, for the record, I’m not. I mean, sure, would I rather run far away from dead bodies as a personal preference? Yeah, absolutely! But you’d be surprised how often I find myself surrounded by them, only they’re usually enemies, or like the big guy likes to say, 'the piled-high corpses of our slain foes,' but that always seemed a bit melodramatic, even to me.”

Bucky gets into the elevator and shuts the door, only to find Stark has stepped inside with him. _What the hell?_ “The simple fact of the matter is, I mean it’s basic physics, really--the ground out there is gonna be frozen solid, so whether Cap finds a shovel or not is irrelevant--that is if you plan on digging graves. You do, don’t you?--in which case you’re going to need to blast your holes into the frozen tundra if you’re going to give them any kind of actual interment-type funerary ritual.”

“What’s that mean, Tony?” Bucky hadn’t realized Steve was listening in until he hears Steve’s voice in his earpiece. Stark must have been broadcasting their conversation over the frequency--one-way though it was. “Should I be lookin’ for a laser cannon or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Stark tells him calmly, raising one of his hands, the repulsor in the center of his palm glowing. “Got it covered.”  

“Just meet us top-side, Stevie,” Bucky tells him awkwardly. “I want to move them myself.”

“Rogers that, Buck.”

 

*

 

Okay, it was a really old joke he’d used to make over the handhelds with the Commandos back in the war, and Bucky probably doesn’t even remember it, but. Steve hadn’t been able to resist. He smiles stupidly to himself, in spite of the grim circumstances, and the giant clusterfuck of relationship woes awaiting him in the near future. Just the thought of being able to make cheesy jokes like that with his best friend again makes Steve ridiculously happy.

It takes them hours to get all five bodies in the ground, Buck insisting on carrying them all himself, while Tony blasts the holes in the ice and Steve digs out the debris with some mountain climbing equipment he found in one of the storage spaces. He and Nat will have to come back here and clean it all out, store the files until there’s time to go through them all, and get things sewn up here so that Hydra can’t just move back in when their attention gets drawn elsewhere. But until then…

Tony is actually pretty great through the whole ordeal. Not only does he stay reserved--for Tony--he’s acting downright respectful. Of bio-engineered super soldiers he’s never even-- _oh_. Is that how it is?

 

*

 

That’s exactly how it is. Not only does Tony find himself subdued because of the task at hand and because Steve’s little dog looks so damned grim and melancholy, apologizing to each corpse in turn as he carries it up to the surface for interment. But also because of what he’d said: these people had been put down like animals. They’d never had a chance even to defend themselves--how was it that wacko had put it? They’d died in their sleep? It was sick. And for what crime had they been given the ultimate punishment? For volunteering to have their bodies pumped full of chemicals so that they could better serve whatever patriotic ideal they believed in. Well that didn’t sound familiar at all. Tony helps, but he has to stop looking at the bodies. After the first one, the only face he sees is Steve’s, and it’s all he can do to hold off a panic attack.

 

*

 

Afterwards, Steve and Tony wait off to the side while Bucky sits down and etches little grave markers for all five out of some loose limestone he found in the rubble. Josef, Yevgeniya, Abram, Ivan, Timur. They’d had names. Maybe Hydra hadn’t used them, but they’d had names, just like Bucky had had a name all that time he’d been the Winter Soldier. Maybe it was selfish, but Bucky felt they should be remembered by their names, not the code words with which Hydra had referred to them.  

Finished, he punches the markers into the newly-formed ice of the fresh graves, and steps back. Steve’s there. He puts an arm around Bucky, loose, draping around his waist, resting a hand on his hip. He doesn’t ask, but it’s okay. Steve can touch Bucky if he wants to. Somehow, Steve just knows.

Tony’s there, too, but he’s standing further back, looking super awkward. “Can it be time for the wake now? Because this is my second funeral this week, and I really, really need a drink.”

 

*

 

Steve’s head snaps back to look at him. _Second_ funeral? But Tony hadn’t been--had he? He holds out an arm to Tony, instinctively. _Because I didn’t want you to be alone_ , Nat had said. She must have known Tony had been there, too. But why hadn’t Tony said anything?

Tony is snuggling into Steve’s embrace on the opposite side from Bucky, and it’s weird, because he’s still got the suit on, but it’s familiar, because it’s definitely not the first time Iron Man has sought comfort from Captain America. “Come on,” Steve says. “Let’s go home.”

Bucky looks up at him. “No--I have to go to Africa. You and Tony…” He glances across Steve at the emotionless Iron Man mask, so very much the opposite of the man underneath. “You go.”

“What did I tell you, Buck?” Steve says, patiently. “I’m with you till the end of the line.” He just stares at Bucky, letting the words sink in. “That means you don’t get to run away either,” he adds, because he can see Buck’s about to argue.

“Well, if it’s just till the end of the line,” Tony butts in, “does that mean we get to kick him off at Crown Heights? Because I’m fine with that.”

Steve scowls at Tony. Not funny. Though weird that he knew it was the 4 train the quote referred to. Or maybe not so weird, considering Tony and his creepy 40’s memorabilia was second only in Cap fanboyism to the late great Phil Coulson. “Only if you plan on kickin’ me out, too,” he tells him.

“Well, damn. Guess I’ll have to think of another way to get rid of him, then.” Steve’s pretty sure he’s joking. But you never did know with Tony. He joked so much, Steve was convinced even Tony had trouble telling when he was being serious sometimes.  

Bucky’s just watching Tony, like he’s a puzzle Buck has to figure out. The poor guy, deprived of human contact for decades, he probably doesn’t know how to make heads or tails of a guy like Tony. Then again, Steve hardly does any better, and he’s had years to get used to Tony. Well, at least he doesn’t seem to be taking Tony’s snark personally. “Come on.” He starts steering both guys back toward the quinjet, one arm around each of them. “I don’t know about you guys, but after three days of being on the lam, I could really use a shower.”

“I’m with you, Cap,” Tony replies smoothly, the Iron Man mask folding back now that they're in an enclosed space again. He wrinkles his nose. “You could really use a shower.”

Bucky snorts. “I dunno, I kinda like the way you smell, Stevie.”

“Yeah? Well your opinion doesn’t count. I bet neither of you took a bath between November 1943 and Valentine’s Day 1944. Compared to what Cap must’ve smelled like then, I’m sure he smells like a rose now.”

Steve’s heart sings when the joke actually makes Bucky smile. And he silently thanks Tony for being such a smartass. “He’s got us there, Stevie.”

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Fuzzy, who’s this ‘Stevie’ you keep mentioning? He sounds like quite a guy.”

Bucky’s still smiling. “Oh, I dunno. Just this little punk I used to know from the neighborhood. I’m not sure if you’d like him, Tony.” Steve has to let go of them to climb into the pilot’s chair, otherwise he thinks he could’ve stood there listening to them chat all day.

“No? I might surprise you.”

“Yeah. Seems like you might. The name’s Bucky, by the way. Not ‘Fuzzy’ or ‘Sad Eyes’ or whatever else you been calling me.”

“Never gonna happen, Barnes,” Tony tells him, taking a seat and strapping in. “Don’t bother.”

“Tony loves nicknames,” Steve explains, starting up the engines.

“Would you listen to this guy?” Tony says. “He lives in my house and eats all my food for four years and thinks he knows me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fond. It’s gonna be an interesting ride.


End file.
